


Empire

by 5557



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Autistic Keith (Voltron), Can a work be philosophical with punches?, Didn't Keith tell you he was a savage?, Galra Empire, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gen, Keith learns about his mother, One of my best works, Some angst, don't sleep on it, fight to the end, grey morality, keith learns of his galra history, keith vs lotor - Freeform, mostly canon, no one is right, showdown, written before season 3 aired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-01-22 00:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 11,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12469888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5557/pseuds/5557
Summary: One chance to change everything. One chance for peace.A showdown between warriors of the Galra empire.Keith has trained rigorously under the Blade of Marmora for this very moment.But the more he learns about his history and heritage, the more Keith learns he must risk.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This is my submission to the Galra Keith Charity Zine.
> 
> This is a slightly edited version, as the zine one was written to be gen and this one contains some subtle Klance moments. It's also longer, expanding on ideas I couldn't fit into the zine. I wanted to explore a story about grey morality and shifting alliances. While the story on the surface seems like one about good vs evil, I hope as it goes on, the complexities are revealed and you can decide for yourself who is truly right in the end.

Keith was not the first to arrive on the distant moon orbiting the massive, turbulent gas giant in this system. His ship descended quickly through the thin, cloudless atmosphere as golden arcs of sunlight crested the mountainous horizon in the distance. The battlecruisers hovering overhead paid him no heed. It was morning, now, and the nearby dwarf-star bathed the swirling, stormy planet that dominated the skyline in its warm light - light that reflected back down onto the moon’s surface, casting dual shadows as a slender vessel skimmed along its surface.

Down into the wide, empty valley he flew, past the deep ravine born of some geological catastrophe and deepened by old mining projects. Keith noticed himself holding his breath as he crossed the divide; soaring over the deep trench as golden sunlight fell into its depths, illuminating its vast expanse, and the refinery at the bottom.

And then he was there. The foot of the mountains. The Old Kingdom. His ship touched down on the cracked and faded remnants of an old landing pad, kicking up tufts of dry dust from the disused tarmac.

The whole mountain range was a city. All around him, buildings shorn out of steep hills and jagged cliff-faces, peppered with tiny landing pads and outdated technological artifice, reached into the clouds above and down into the depths of the ravine.

This was a busy city, once. Now, simply a remnant of its former glory.

A quick bioscan revealed only two plants dominating the surrounding ecosystem. A bright red-ochre grass, tough and weedlike sprouted between the cracks of old infrastructure. It spilled out of the meadows into this old city, growing where it pleased, choking the old rail-lines and slowly taking back nature for itself.

The other flora were tall red trees with thick stumps that crested into long, willowy branches swaying in the thin atmosphere. Red leaves fell to the ground from wayward saplings that twisted up, out of cracks in the concrete. They piled up in red mounds around old statues and kiosks. If the landscape around him wasn’t gray rock or dull metal, it was red.

From what he’d been told of its grand history, Keith had expected something much different. Truthfully, this wasn’t much to look at.


	2. Two

“You’re wasting time, Keith. Stop planning every move and attack.” 

The words echoed throughout the hall as the blunted sword met Keith’s ribcage with a loud crack. Winded, he stumbled back, ducking away for a second time as the oncoming sword slashed again. A narrow miss. And another. Keith clutched his ribs as he barely escaped a third time, losing ground with every dodge. 

Kolivan slowly advanced upon him. Keith’s eyes darted between him and his own sword, knocked from his hand and laying useless several feet away. Back to the strong grip Kolivan held on his weapon as he continued to close the distance.

“Easy for you to say,” Keith gasped between ragged breaths, “you won’t give me a break!”

“The Galra are not merciful,” Kolivan remarked with a cool indifference as he readied himself for another assault. “It is not our way. You won’t get a second chance.”

The fight had started out well enough, but Keith’s inexperience had betrayed him. He’d fallen for a trick feint and lost the upper hand, kicked to the floor until he rolled to an undignified stop. Kolivan had been on him in an instant, slashing with quiet fury, strike after strike. Keith barely kept up. And then he’d lost his sword.

As he’d come to learn, Keith would receive neither advice nor help from his teachers. These brutal training rounds were designed to push him to the absolute brink of his endurance. And then some. They were trying to draw the Galra out of him, Kolivan had explained. Trying to burn away the human conditioning; the fear and hesitation that locked away Keith’s true potential as a warrior. 

Or so he’d been told.

Cornered and unarmed, Keith bit down on the pain and sized up his opponent. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he steadied his feet and shrugged off the quickly-forming bruise on his chest. Kolivan slowly circled him around the training floor, likely more to taunt Keith than give him pause for breath. Keith weighed his options. His sword was too far away and Kolivan knew it. This was their fourth round and Keith was becoming exhausted. Kolivan hadn’t broken a sweat.

It was when Kolivan launched himself at Keith one final time, aiming his sword for a killing blow that Keith snapped. Thoughts no longer came to him as his mind shut down and his body took over. Feeling the sudden surge of burning fury, Keith stepped past Kolivan with a speed and strength he didn’t know he had and hooked his arm around Kolivan’s neck. Using his opponent’s momentum against him, Keith slammed him to the ground, knocking the sword from his hand and kicking it across the room. Rage and adrenaline held him there, perched on Kolivan’s neck as his trainer squirmed under him and Keith wrenched his arm painfully over his head.

“Give?” he spat. Blood came with the words. It ran down his lip and splashed on the polished metal floor below.

“I give.”

Keith’s thoughts returned to him, and with them, a sense of tired relief. Another bout of training over. He wiped his chin with the back of his fist. This time, thankfully, he’d won.

Though he knew by now that praise was doled sparingly in the Blade of Marmora, Keith still turned instinctively towards Kolivan’s enigmatic gaze as he drew himself up from the mat. Kolivan flexed his neck, shrugging away whatever victory Keith had dealt like it had never happened.

“Again,” he spoke.

Enough.

“Why are you so hard on me?” asked Keith, as his knees shook and the bruise burned angrily in his chest. “Allura’s training bots were never this brutal. I can’t help you if I’m dead.” 

“I told you,” said Kolivan readying himself for another round. “You must learn to override your human conditioning. Only then will you stand a chance.”

Again with riddles and mysterious nonsense.

“But a chance at  _ what? _ ”

“Turning the tide of this war,” he said, calmly.

Keith picked up his sword off the training room floor and with a flash of light it returned to its dormant dagger state.

“Permission to speak freely?”

“That is a human behaviour,” Kolivan waved his hand. “You need not ask.”

Returning his dagger to its sheath, Keith nodded and pursed his lips. “ _ Bullshit. _ I’m one soldier. I know I was a Paladin before I joined the Blade, but without a Lion-” he paused, searching for the right words. “In the grand scheme of things... I’m just not that important.”

There was a long silence between them. For once, Keith saw the impressive Kolivan taken aback. He turned on his heel, sweeping the tails of his robes as he strode towards the door.

“You are far more important than you know, Keith. Walk with me.”


	3. Three

There were people, too. Dotted here and there on his scans inside the carved mountain city-complex. Not nearly enough to maintain its ambitious size or crumbling architecture, but still wandering the old streets and marketplaces in tiny moving clusters. All of them seemed to be migrating slowly towards an enormous central cavern projected on Keith’s holomap.

Keith leaned back in his chair, allowing himself a moment to observe the tiny red dots coming and going on the softly glowing miniature city. People. Innocent lives. Galra, yes. But no more connected to the war than a vote or a tax or a job manufacturing warship parts. This system, it was bigger than all of them; military, civilian. It was… complicated. 

“Keith, we’re here for you.” The dashboard comm blinked into life as Shiro’s voice broke the silence. “Let us know if you need help.”

The Castle was nearby. Probably even in the same system. Ready to wormhole directly onto the moon and release the all-powerful Voltron upon whatever trouble Keith might have gotten himself into. 

_ And keep making things worse _ , he thought to himself.

Keith sighed, finger hovering over the reply button for the briefest moment. “I’ll be fine,” he replied. “This is… a Galra thing.”

“Feels like a trap,” said Lance, from somewhere behind Shiro. And in the back of his mind, Keith agreed.

Before Shiro could say anything else, Keith wished them well and hurriedly shut off the comm. Best not to think about them now. He needed to concentrate on the mission at hand.


	4. Four

The long hall outside the training room was empty. Battered and sore, Keith made a point to follow beside Kolivan as he set a swift pace through the Blade’s headquarters. Kolivan made no effort to slow down.

“You’ve done well since joining us, Keith. Do not second-guess your progress.”

“Thanks.” An odd compliment, but Keith had long since gotten used to them from Kolivan. He wasn’t wrong. In the months since he’d joined, Keith had slowly learned what it meant to allow his Galra instincts to flourish; sharpening his senses and cutting his reaction time.

“You know, on Earth, I’ve always been known for acting without thinking.”

“Galra are faster than humans. Our senses more evolved to not doubt or hesitate. You’ll learn to keep up.”

No longer constrained by the need to suppress half of himself, Keith was becoming more and more accustomed to this alien way of life day by day. He never realised how poorly he fit into Earth’s grating stimuli until he’d fully joined the Blade of Marmora. The dim lighting of the halls did not sear his eyes, and the soft slippers everyone wore no longer distracted him from his thoughts. Galra understood him. Instinctively. When Keith thought back to Earth, and the painful headaches and lonesome social rejection, he found it surprisingly difficult to miss.

“Do you regret it?” asked Kolivan.

Keith shook his head. “Voltron has five pilots,” he said, slowly, calmly. “With Shiro back, I’m no longer needed.”

Kolivan nodded as he paused before a locked doorway. He turned to Keith before laying his hand upon the sensor.

“It is to everyone’s benefit that you are here.”


	5. Five

There were other ships nearby—ground-to-space shuttles of various size and status, while the great Galra battle carriers hung as distant, twinkling lights in the dawning sky. These landed ships were new, and stood out against the muted city in their polished glory, bearing decorative plating and large emblems of the empire.

Down the exit ramp, Keith took his first steps into the glinting morning light, drinking in the steep cliffside landscape and the thin atmosphere forcing his lungs to work for every breath. He shrugged up his cloak against the cool whip of air that stirred the leaves around his feet and began his long journey towards the city centre.

What stood out most to Keith wasn’t the overgrown weeds or the outdated machinery or any of the other leftover remains of a used-up landscape. It was the statues. Lining the great promenade in front of him all the way to the yawning mouth of the inner city’s entrance. They stood, proud and tall in intimidating procession. The bases were old and cracked, but the statues were new. They’d been replaced. With Zarkon.

Keith couldn’t help glancing over his shoulder. His scans showed that the landing strip and surrounding plaza was empty, and that’s exactly why he was worried. A city like this, even a neglected one should have people outside. Only Zarkon’s cold stare greeted Keith.

No one from the Blade was allowed to accompany him. That was the price Keith had to pay for his actions. The law and custom of Galra. He could walk into their territory, set foot upon their hallowed ground and not be killed on sight. But he was to come alone. 

Walking in the long shadows cast by the emperor, Keith felt his heart thrum in his chest. With every step, dry leaves crunched under his toes. Anxiety bubbled within him. He would have liked Kolivan’s presence, now. Or Shiro's steady hand upon his shoulder. But he was alone.

 

And, his instincts told him, he was being watched.


	6. Six

The doors unlocked and swept aside.

Inside was a small, spartan apartment with a cushioned sitting area in the centre and a window that spanned the entirety of the far wall. Kolivan’s private quarters. Once inside, he motioned for Keith to sit. Instead, Keith chose to stare out the massive window at the nebula their station was currently hiding in. Countless stars and clouds of hot gasses mixed and swirled in endless chaos before him, churning violently and forming anew. His breath formed a small cloud on the pane. Keith felt distinctly insignificant.

Though service bots were common at the Blade’s headquarters, Kolivan eschewed the one stationed in its little power alcove. He opened a cupboard in the cooking area, reaching for a spherical glass container and filled it with water. He placed that on a heating element and Keith took a moment to relish the sight of the great and powerful Kolivan puttering around in a kitchen.

Of the few furnishings in Kolivan’s quarters was a low table near the window holding five stone figures. They were made of an extremely dark, polished crystal Keith had never seen before. Warriors, they looked like, holding old versions of Galra weapons and standing together with stoic pride. 

The base of each statuette was engraved in a script that Keith was just barely learning to read. He glanced over to the kitchen, embarrassed. Seeing Kolivan still busy, he stumbled through the pronunciation of each word under his breath.  _ Annorh, Tebek, Shaelil, Kestit _ and finally, in the centre, the largest and most imposing statuette of a woman holding a sword in one hand, and a chalice in another.  _ Marmora. _

Kolivan returned from the kitchen, holding a tray laden with tea. He placed it on the table and sat down, indicating, for a second time, that Keith sit. 

“What do you know of the Galra empire?”

“That it’s big,” said Keith, “and that Zarkon has ruled over it for 10,000 years.” 

He could feel Kolivan’s austere gaze boring into him and Keith decided it was in his best interest to comply. The cushions were surprisingly soft, and eased his sore body from the effort of movement. Kolivan noticed his wince of pain as he sank into the cushion and calmly poured a cup of tea.

“And do you think Zarkon created the empire from nothing? Do you think it sprang fully formed into being when he was born?”

“No?” It felt like a trick question.

“Drink this.” Kolivan handed him the cup. “It will help with the pain.”

The tea was hot, bitter, and distinctly herbal. It tasted like turmeric or basil or some other spice Hunk would be more familiar with. But sipping it dulled the searing ache in his ribs and for that, Keith was grateful. Kolivan’s gaze never faltered from him. He waited until Keith finished before he poured his own cup and began.

“In times far older than your human history, the Galra were born on a small moon circling the gas giant Daibazaal, among many others. We were a race of hunters, of survivors against the many perils that primitive worlds often bring. We mined the ground beneath our feet and discovered stone and metal. We survived and grew and filled that moon.” 

Keith stared out at the nebula as a great burst of volatile gases flared in the distance.  
  
“As we finally developed the technology for space travel, we spread to the four other habitable moons and our civilisation flourished until even those could not hold our numbers. We sought expansion into the stars beyond, and the great empire began. Marmora is that moon, Keith. It is the oldest, most ancient homeworld of the Galra and home to the oldest bloodline. Our heritage-  _ Your _ heritage.”


	7. Seven

Keith saw the first Galra soldiers at the entrance gate. Over a hundred feet across and two storeys high, it loomed over him; a foreboding presence of elegantly latticed metal. The Galra approached him and their commander stepped forward, demanding identification. 

After a brief moment of silent tension, Keith drew his dagger. Displaying the symbol of Marmora for him, and any hidden surveillance, to observe. The hulking officer nodded to some communication in his ear. He saluted Keith and stood back, allowing entrance as the massive gate separated like teeth welcoming him into a gaping maw.

There were more Galra inside. Many of them. All around Keith, foreign Galra military figures from the far corners of the universe had gathered, clashing against the muted locals with their crisp uniforms. Those who still called the old moon their home wore simple robes, while visiting nobility stood out in their regal finery and jewels. Whispers rippled through the crowds that hung around the cavernous atrium. The challenger. Bodies parted, giving Keith wide berth as he strolled silently inside.

Keith wondered if Lotor had brought them all here for intimidation, or if they genuinely wished to see him fight. Neither idea appealed to him.

It was unmistakable where he needed to go. Though he was surrounded by densely-packed pillars of stone-hewn apartments. He saw sunlight pouring in from above just ahead. The hole in the caverns stretched hundreds of meters across, bathing the massive building in warm light while the rest of the mountain city kept to its comfortable shadows. Keith stopped as more officers approached him, saluting and leading him in a small but formal procession through the old city towards the grand colosseum.


	8. Eight

“My heritage?” Keith breathed as realisation slowly sank in. “ _ You mean my mother- _ What happened to her, Kolivan? What do you know? When-”

Kolivan raised a single finger to silence the spout of words bubbling forth.

“We did not recognise your bloodline when you first arrived here with your brother. Our surprise and disbelief that you had inherited her sword was genuine.”

“So you knew her.”

Kolivan sipped his tea in agonizing silence.

“Yes, I knew your mother. Very well, in fact.”

“When did she go to Earth? Why? Where is she now?”

“Dead, Keith. That, I will not spare you. The heirs of House Marmora were always a target of the empire. Orenia was no different. She spent most of her life fleeing or in hiding. There were times when even we could not keep track of her.”

Dead. The words seemed to pass through him. Dead. He had always known this, always thought it logical. But, the  _ knowing, _ now. The confirmation. Keith could barely admit it to himself. It came as a tragic relief. He’d be angry later, viciously sad. But not now. He couldn’t feel anything right now. Maybe it was the tea.

“House?” Keith quirked an eyebrow.

Kolivan refilled Keith’s cup. “Drink. I’ll explain.”

“When we colonised the other moons, our empire divided into five ruling houses. Being the first, and largest homeworld, House Marmora was its leader. For countless generations, that was how things stayed. The bloodline ran true, even as we explored the galaxy and beyond. Then, ten thousand years ago, we discovered a similarly curious race, one that shared our goals of exploration and expansion.”

“The Alteans.”

“That was when Zarkon came into play. He is not a true emperor of the Galra by blood.” Kolivan seemed to grip his cup just a little bit harder. “It is an open secret that has never been fully buried by time or propaganda. Zarkon was a minor lord of one of the outer moons when he became a part of that Altean project. He was made its leader. The power went to his head.”

“He betrayed King Alfor.”

“You know much of the rest,” Kolivan sighed. “Zarkon staged his coup with a group of loyal followers, disposing of the previous empress and taking her place. He no longer had the Black Lion, but he didn’t need its power. He had other sources. He’s had that witch-woman by his side for millennia.”

Keith nodded, and the muscles in his hand contracted instinctively, remembering the painful shock of Haggar’s quintessence attacks. He retracted his hand under the table, not wanting to see it shake in front of him.

“For ten thousand years Zarkon secured his seat of power, hunting and assassinating anyone who might challenge him for rightful claim to the throne. Every hair from every moon was slaughtered. Aside from those civilians still living on our home moon, we at the Blade are all that is left of our House. Your mother was the last in the bloodline. Until you.”

Keith stared at his nearly empty cup. “Why earth? Why a half-human child?”

Kolivan chuckled. “Not all her motivations could be reconciled. Orenia spent much of her time fleeing and hiding, though she desperately wished to fight. I-  _ We _ discouraged her. It seemed hopeless. That was before Voltron was reformed and delivered such direct, tangible losses to Zarkon’s power. She must have found Earth to be suitable for one reason or another. And now you are here.”

It was, admittedly, a lot to take in. It was overwhelming. It hurt. A year ago Keith was eating cold pasta out of tin cans in a desert shack, desperately searching for meaning in a world where he had no Shiro. No father. No family. No bloodline. He sat there, silently chewing his lip.

“So you’re saying I’m some sort of prince? That not only am I an alien, but alien royalty?”

Kolivan leaned back in his seat. “I am saying exactly that.”

Keith shook his head slowly. “I’m an orphan from Texas.”

“Keith, you are a lord of the Galra empire.”

“That’s a lot of responsibility.”


	9. Nine

The holding chamber was several flights below the arena ring. It was cool and dark, the way every Galra preferred. When the soldiers’ footsteps faded away and Keith knew he was alone, he paced the windowless room, settling his racing thoughts. A brief urge to escape and run away, calling for Voltron and fleeing the city surged through him until Keith threw himself onto the bench, forcing his mind to focus. Besides, it was far too late for any of that now.

He sighed, looking around at the low ceiling and sloping walls. The jagged crystal light fixtures glowed a soft, eerie blue. The room felt claustrophobic; more like a prison cell than a preparation area. 

There was food there. A bowl with fruit and mushrooms and a dish of prepared meats sat beside a pitcher of water on a narrow inlet in the stone wall. Not that Keith felt like eating right now. Not that there was any chance it wasn’t poisoned. Keith removed his cloak and began a few warm-up stretches against the bench.


	10. Ten

Kolivan noticed Keith’s eyes constantly wandering back to those crystal statuettes on the table. He picked up the large central one and handed it to Keith. It was solidly built and intricately carved. Keith ran his thumb over the fine details of the woman’s hood and crown as she stared back at him. Her face looked stern, but wise. 

“That is Nehelia. The mother of Marmora. She was the first Empress. It was she who united our squabbling territories into one empire.” 

“How?” Keith did not look up from the statuette.

“Long ago, Marmora was divided, and the regions fought in endless border wars. Countless resources were wasted carrying on wars of ego. Nehelia was queen to a land bordered on several sides by greedy lords trying to bolster their own nations through annexation. Nehelia decided to put an end to it. She challenged each king for their land and fealty, one after the other. The smaller kingdoms joined her without a fight. The more powerful, stubborn kings, she challenged to honourable combat.”

“Did she win?”

“Nehelia was a master swordswoman. She not only defeated every opponent she ever faced, she embarrassed them. Each one fell and eventually all pledged loyalty to her. Eventually. Those who still refused, died. The Galra are not merciful, Keith.”

“We were a united people under her rule, and Marmora entered into a golden age. As a united people, we traveled to the four moons and beyond. Anyone who still believes in the old ways might invoke her in a prayer. Zarkon has made every attempt to wipe her and the other legends from Galra memory.” Kolivan smiled. “Nevertheless, she persists. She cannot be erased. She is the mother moon herself.”

“Like trying to rename the earth,” Keith mused. “So, am I related to her?”

“Of course. And we intend to restore the bloodline.”

The statement, so calm and casual from Kolivan’s lips floored Keith. He could barely hold the heavy statue in his shaking hands. Couldn’t control his eyes burning with tears.

“So… what?” He looked up at Kolivan, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “You want me to just- walk into the Galra central command and talk smack to Lotor?” Keith’s voice hitched in his throat as he spoke. It didn’t sell the joke. He couldn’t stop staring at that face in his hands. Couldn’t stop thinking of his mother.

“No, Keith,” said Kolivan. “You already did.”


	11. Eleven

Keith was not alarmed when the door to his waiting chamber opened. He was, however, surprised that it was not the group of nameless soldiers from before that came to claim him. It was Acxa herself. She stood, cool and confident in the doorway. Keith didn’t need to invite her in. She marched straight into the centre of the room and pulled a small handheld device from her belt. 

“I’m here to check you for contraband weapons and devices.”

Keith threw her an awkward grin. “Sure you don’t want to do a cavity search?” 

Acxa rolled her eyes. Lance would have appreciated that one.

Keith sighed, surrendering his arms and spreading his legs. Acxa hit a few buttons on her device and began waving it up and down in front of him. It beeped and chirped as a line of bright blue light rose and fell over his slim fighter’s suit. Then over at his cloak. Seemingly satisfied, she turned back to him, with her other palm outstretched.

“Your knife,” she demanded.

Keith retrieved his knife once again from its sheath, but refused to let her hold it. Acxa made a second grab, but Keith’s grip remained firm, and his eyes remained on hers. 

“Fine,” she grumbled. And she scanned his knife in his hand with the most possible derision. “The other form, too.”

Keith activated his knife, and with a flash of light it extended into his sword. Acxa scanned it again. “That was some idiotic stunt you pulled with your challenge,” she said as those blue lines of light flickered up and down the blade.

Keith found it hard to suppress his smile. “Wasn’t it, though?”

Acxa shrugged. “Billions of people are still wondering who ‘Dammit Lance’ is.”


	12. Twelve

Kolivan leaned in closer, eyeing Keith conspiratorially. “Did you not notice when you first challenged Zarkon? No one intervened. It goes against blood-law.”

Keith shook his head, confused. “When?”

“When you faced him alone.”

Keith thought back to his time in the Red Lion, half-blind with rage, facing down Zarkon outside of his starbase. He was supposed to be rescuing Allura. He should have listened to Coran’s warning. He nearly died.

He should have.

“No one intervened because you challenged him to Kae’ah Lei. A fight for ownership of the glorious empire.”

“I was trying to save Shiro.”

“What matters is that you challenged him.”

Keith was finding it harder and harder to swallow. “But I lost. We fled. We barely made it out alive.” 

He reached for his cup and remembered it was empty.

“No. Your duel remained unfinished. And you have every right to contest Zarkon’s successor. Lotor’s claim to the throne is tenuous, at best, Keith. Now is the time to strike.”

Kolivan obligingly refilled his cup.

“Has no one else challenged Zarkon in ten thousand years?”

“Of course they have. And every one has lost. That is why your attack at his central command those many months ago shook the empire to its core. And then you did it again, nearly killing him, forcing his successor to accept any challenge you make.

The tension ate at him, and Keith needed to move. He stood from the table and wandered back to the window, where the fury of the stars matched the unease within him.

“House Marmora has a claim to the throne, and you, are its strongest contender. Your claim to the Galra throne is not just valid, it’s a threat. If you defeat Lotor, every Galra will swear loyalty to you. We can end this war and return to our homeworld.”


	13. Thirteen

“Guys, I need ten more minutes. Five, maybe. If you can just buy me a bit more _time-_ ” Pidge’s voice, strained with worry and concentration came in fuzz and patches, yet Keith couldn’t help but hear her furious typing all the way through his headset. “I’m almost there, but they have a nasty security backup- _shit!_ ”

Keith felt the explosion rumble through the metallic floors over his head.

“Hunk! You just took out a satellite!”

“My bad!”

“Guys, we _have_ to be careful,” Shiro commanded. “We can't just turn this station into shrapnel.”

Keith steadied his legs and gripped his blade a little tighter in his hand. Great. Not the first time everything had gone wrong with a simple plan. All they needed was to infiltrate the communications station, cut power for 60 seconds, and reroute all channels to their central broadcast hub so Keith could upload his challenge to Lotor. Get in, send the message, get out. Simple enough.

Another explosion rocked through the station.

“ _Guys!_ ”

Somehow a stealth mission just had to turn into a dogfight.

“Give me a second, rerouting power to the auxiliary tower.”

The purple lights lining the hall dimmed and then flared into brightness once more.

“It’s getting a little hairy out here,” said Shiro, trying and failing to force the agitation out of his voice. “We could use some help.”

Keith’s glance shifted between Lance and Allura. The corner they’d tucked themselves in was going to be overrun with sentry bots soon enough anyway. Pidge had gotten them in through an unsecure garbage chute, but nowhere near the main communications hub on the upper deck. Alarms blared. The longer they sat, the more Galra sentries were scrambled to defend the station.

Allura frowned through her helmet display as glowing red markers dotted all over it. The ground underneath them rumbled with another chain of explosions not too far off. Hunk’s panicked shriek shot through the comm, followed by Shiro trying to calm him down, and Pidge screaming in the background to hurry up.

“They need me more out there,” Allura sighed. “I’ll clear the way for your exit, Keith. Lance will take you once you’ve delivered your message. Go quickly.”

He nodded. Allura checked around the corner for sentries, and Lance scoped the long hallway with his rifle.

“All clear.”

Allura took off at a sprint down the hallway for the dingy release hatch where the Blue Lion stood waiting outside. She slid gracefully through the tiny rusted hole they’d just crawled through and disappeared.

And then it was just the two of them.

“Looks like you’re riding shotgun with me, buddy.” Lance gently nudged Keith with his elbow. “No backseat-” his words were cut off as the doorway on the far side of the hallway hissed open and three sentries marched through.

Keith hunched himself behind the metal siding, preparing to dash in for an opportunity attack. Those sentries weren’t running. They hadn’t been spotted. Yet.

His legs tensed and he was about to pounce when Lance firmly gripped his shoulder and held him down against his will. Lance was holding his entire weight against him. Winded, Keith bit his tongue and fell back against the wall, trying to minimise the noise the two of them were making. Lance silently activated his bayard, winking at him. Oh.

Keith settled himself back down to the floor. Three shots from a hundred meters away was, admittedly, a much better idea than blindly charging in.

The shots rang, quickly and quietly through the air, eliminating their targets with pinpoint precision. Three droids fell, clanking and sparking to the floor until they lay still and deactivated.

Impressive. Keith tried to think of something important-sounding to say, some kind of congratulations or “good shooting” or something less dumb. But Lance was already jogging ahead of him, halfway to the door. “Thanks,” he settled for, hopping over the motionless droids.

Lance threw him a thumbs up.

“You’re getting really good at that,” He added. They both stopped at the doorway the sentries had just come through… and locked behind them.

“Oh yeah?” In one unthinkingly swift motion, Lance grabbed Keith’s hand and smeared it on the scanning console on the wall, opening the door.

“Yeah,” Keith shrugged, yanking his hand out of Lance’s grip. “Guess I don’t need to worry about being gone, now. You guys don’t need me to save you.” He forced a laugh.

“I’m pretty sure with your constant deathwish, we’re the ones saving _you._ ” Lance forced a laugh back. They ran down the hall together. “Well, _were._ ”

The two of them hit the main junction. A wide open semi-circular bay with many other halls and doors opening onto it, and ahead of them, the elevators that would take them to the communications deck twenty floors up.

No guards. Strange. Keith strained to listen beyond the sound of his heavy breath and pounding heart. The entire station must be stretched thin with the effort of holding off the Lions outside. Keith looked to Lance, who scanned the area just as he did. Just a bunch of empty corridors and the sound of metallic footsteps clattering in the distance.

Now or never.

No, there were definitely guards. Keith barely missed a spray of plasma fire training along his feet and scattering up to the ceiling. He pushed himself into a mad dash, leaping at the last second to avoid another pulse of badly aimed fire. Keith pushed himself into the elevator first, before the doors fully opened, and Lance arrived quickly behind him, diving in and mashing the button to close it.

A deep voice screamed through the collapsing doorway, “I’ve cornered the intruders! I need backup!”

So there was only one of him.

“Hey, where are you guys?” Pidge’s voice came through the comm, “I need you in position in under two minutes. We can’t miss this window.”

The galra guard pounded on the elevator doors, and after a few seconds, plasma smoke started drifting in.

“Why isn’t it going up?” Lance whined, furiously tapping the button for deck 20.

Keith stared at the palm of his hand, and at the console full of buttons that didn’t have a palm-scanner built into it. “He probably has a security key.”

Lance stared at Keith.  
Keith stared back at him.

“Cover me.”

The door slid open. This wasn’t going to be a firefight. This was what Keith did best. Close quarters. Bodies connected. Force and gravity as his playthings. Keith took the guard by surprise, launching off his shoulders and landing behind him. The twist in midair was a nice touch. This guard was slow, and complacent. Used to sitting around, half paying attention to the comings and goings of robotic drones. The guard didn’t have time to move or scream before Keith’s blade sank deep into grey cloth and purple flesh. A strangled cry quickly drained away as blood poured from the wound and Keith looked up to see Lance, eyes down the sight of his rifle pointed over Keith’s shoulder, blinking.

After a quick search, Keith found a card in the guard’s breast pocket that looked like it might do the trick. He wiped the bloody card on the guard’s shirt, and glanced up at Lance, still blinking in the elevator.

“You didn’t need to do that, Keith.”

He eyed the blood-smeared chip-card in his hands. “I got the key, didn’t I?”

“You could have just… knocked him out.”

Keith had to kick his foot out of the doorway for it to close properly. “He’ll serve as a warning for that backup he just called.”

“Keith, you killed a guy.”

Keith shrugged. “No, I killed the enemy. And you just took out three of them a moment ago.”

“Those were droids, Keith. And, so like, when you’re Lord and Master of the Galra Empire, what do you say to that dude’s family you just took out?”

Keith paused a moment, and shrugged again. “I consider him preemptively fired from his position.”

“Oof, no severance package?” Lance rolled his eyes.

“The Galra sever your head from your body, Lance.” He flashed a vicious grin, noting the way his teeth had grown in sharper, more fully, in the past few months. Noting how he no longer felt sickened by the sight... or taste of blood. Keith swiped the card through the slot.

“Harsh.” Lance lowered his gun as the doors slid shut and the elevator began to rise up through the decks. “You’ve changed, you know. You’re different now.”

“Oh, the ears don’t give it away?”

“No. Yes, but no.” Lance was looking at him, everywhere but his eyes. “You’re… tougher, I guess.” He shifted his weight, watching the purple lights slide down both their bodies as the elevator ascended and quiet overtook the tiny room.

“No,” Lance turned his gaze away until the elevator stopped and the doors slid back open. “Colder.”

The explosions outside seemed to have calmed, no doubt thanks to Allura keeping things under control. Occasional commands from her or Shiro sounded on the open channel, but from what he heard the fight had mostly been won. The Paladins were clearing up the stragglers until reinforcements would arrive from outside the system. Pidge told them not to worry; they’d be long gone by then.

Keith put a lot of faith in her. In them.

“I’m doing this for all of us.”

“Yeah, I know you are.”

“Kolivan said-”

“I know what Kolivan said, Keith. You already told us.”

The communications room was small, dark, and a lot warmer than the rest of the stations. Coloured lights flashed on holoscreens everywhere, navigating this terminal in the information highway. Lance squinted in the flickering darkness while Keith’s eyes readily adjusted.

“Don’t come in here!” A small voice squeaked from the corner. “I’m warning you! I- I have a gun!”

“Then shoot us.” Keith stepped into the room.

“Don’t take another step! The other guards will be on their way! You’ll be captured and killed!”

This Galra, if you could even call her a soldier, was small and podgy, huddled behind a rolling chair on the ground. Clearly terrified, she shook incessantly as Keith drew near, her fur bristling and teeth chattering even as she spat epithets and and threats in his direction.

She was, in a word, pathetic. Keith looked over to Lance, who eyed him with grim seriousness. He wasn't going to look the other way while Keith dealt with her, though in her state, she was far from a threat and wasn’t much to deal with. Keith weighed his options.

“Find me a rope or something.”

Lance’s rigid posture seemed to soften as he searched for a spare roll of ethernet cabling.

“Keith, if you have anything written down, pull it out now. I’m sorry, but I can’t give you the time we thought. We’re overriding every possible communications channel and broadcasting intergalactic here.”

The whole galaxy. And beyond. Keith frantically tried to recall the speech he’d prepared. The words Kolivan had drilled into his head. Galra law. Galra custom. He’d be safe if he could challenge Lotor. No one would touch him.

“Keith, whatever you had planned, you’re gonna have to make it quick. You’ve got about 20 seconds.”

Bloodright. History. He wasn’t Keith the loner from Earth. He was saving the universe from itself. Fighting for good. Everything depending on him. Just remember those words. Lotor. Challenge Lotor. Get it right.

“And we’re going live in 7… 6… 5…”

And that was when Keith felt the hand on his shoulder, wrenching his mind back into the present.

“Hey. You sure you wanna do this?”

“Don’t. Don’t ask me that.”

“4... 3...”

“I’m just saying-”

“2... 1...”

“Fuck! I’m gonna forget my lines! I have to- DAMMIT LANCE!”

A tiny red light flickered on in front of him and Pidge’s voice whispered through his comm.

“Keith. You’re on.”

Pidge’s program went live. Infecting every ship’s communication system, and broadcasting as far as every Galra relay connection would allow- It beamed across the universe, into space stations and battlecruisers and down planetside. Streaming far and wide, through military bases and bureaucratic junctions. Down the intergalactic trade routes and subspace news networks. From the highest security clearance channels to cable television and phone lines. From enormous videoboards in the wealthy shopping districts reaching several stories tall to the rural high schools on the edge of a solar cluster and the handheld devices every teenage alien owned.

Every surface, every screen showed one singular omnipresent face.  
For a moment, Galra society stopped. And watched. Everyone was watching.

Keith swallowed dry.

 

“Lotor,” Keith’s voice boomed from every comm and speaker, “I, Keith - of the oldest blood of House Marmora challenge the heir of Zarkon to Kai’ah Lie. I lay claim to the royal Galra throne. Face me.”


	14. Fourteen

Keith leaned against the window, carefully running his fingers over the tender bruise now fully formed on his ribs. It was, thankfully, numb. The strange tea was reaching its full effect. His body felt heavy and his thoughts were a blur, his mind felt barely able to handle the revelations Kolivan had thrown at him one by one.

“What’s to say Lotor will accept my challenge? What’s to say he won’t just shoot me down from space?”

He pressed down on the flesh. Big mistake.

“I’d go on about ancient traditions and Galra honor,” said Kolivan, still perplexingly expressionless as electric pain shot through Keith’s addled senses, “but the truth is that Lotor is a smug fool. He couldn’t resist the glory of wiping out House Marmora for good.”

Keith bit his tongue. Kolivan smirked at him from the table.

“He’d face a backlash of mutiny if he did. His own soldiers would rally against him for that dishonour. Generals would usurp him. Citizens would defy him. The old beliefs run deep, Keith. No Galra would be led by a coward.”

“Huh.”

Kolivan looked at him, imploring Keith to expand beyond a single noise response.

“I just mean, humans usually vote for their leaders, not battle for supremacy.”

Kolivan stood up to his full height, head-and-shoulders taller than Keith. “Humans aren’t Galra.”

Outside the window, another plasma explosion burst into brilliant colours and dissipated, leaving a glowing residue all around the hidden station. Keith stared at the energy- hot, brilliant and angry, like whatever was swirling inside of him now.

“Know this: you are your mother’s son. I will teach you courage, Keith. And the ways of showing a proud people you are destined to lead them. Time is short, and there is much you must learn. ”


	15. Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just finishing up the last couple chapters, and the final bit has a lot of mini cuts and jumps. I might upload it all as one, or I might cut it into regular small chapters as I have been doing, but either way it should all be up in the next couple days, so sorry for the notification spam if you are subscribed.

Keith sucked in a breath of tension-thick air. He shifted uncomfortably on the spot, unable to escape the harsh gaze of the woman centring herself in his tiny stone holding room. Acxa looked him up and down, clicking her tongue, unimpressed by what she saw. “Where is your other weapon?”

“If you’re referring to the black bayard,” Keith replied, grabbing his cloak from the bench, “I don’t have it. I’m not a Paladin anymore.”

“So be it,” she sniffed. “Less of a thorn in my side.”

Keith wrapped his cloak around himself, fastening the burnished gold clasp. “And if I win?”

“I don’t expect you to.” Axca’s smile was thin and malicious, until her ears twitched and she pressed her fingertips to her eardrum. “Now? Alright then.” She pointed at the door unceremoniously. “It’s time.”

Keith climbed each cold stone step with grim and steady determination. Behind Acxa, he could see little as the narrow stairwell spiralled up to the main court level. Machines with round, circular lenses attached to the ceiling rotated, following them as they climbed.

“What are those?”

“Cameras. The whole Empire is watching.”  Acxa laughed. “You challenge the Emperor to a fight, the Empire gets to watch. They have been since you arrived.”

For the first time, chills ran down Keith’s spine. The camera lenses glinted in the lowlight, training on him and him alone as he walked. Keith awkwardly clung to one side of the hall, but the cameras followed him. Nowhere was safe from their gaze. Suddenly he was wondering if he’d picked his nose in the holding chamber.

They were getting close to the surface. Only one more flight to go. Keith could still see precious little in front of him, but he began to hear it: music. And drums. Filtering in from above, the deep bass carried through the floor and buzzed through his lungs, intensifying the jitters inside of him.

They were directly underneath the arena floor, now, by his best guess. The ceiling was low, and the wide area supported by many pillars and buttresses. Electrical cables snaked along the floor, reaching up to computerized panels in the corners; a haphazard evolution from ancient times of stone and solid metal. Other galra attendants rushed around them, silently following instructions beamed into earpieces. Keith took a few deep, steadying breaths while Acxa led him to a metal disc platform in the middle of the room.

“Up,” she commanded, and Keith took his position on the disc. He turned back to her.

“What should I do?”

“Face that way and try not to die before the elevator reaches the arena,” a second voice giggled. Ezor materialized in front of them both, waving bemusedly. Keith had the sneaking suspicion she’d been there the whole time.

He was about to reply, but the platform started vibrating, then rising, and a small circle opened up in the ceiling. It widened as he rose, slowly, giving him far too much time to think. Ezor winked at him and Acxa was already gone. Keith shrugged his cloak around his shoulders and squinted into the blinding sunlight above.

The noise was deafening.

Keith blinked his eyes open to a flat spread of dry sand and a theatre filled to overflowing with Galra spectators. Walls of bodies surrounded him in the vast stone oval, rising up into the carved stone cliffs of this natural sinkhole. And down, across the centre of the ring, pointing a graceful, curving blade up towards him: Lotor.

Keith could see his flashing grin from a hundred yards away.

Lotor turned to circle the crowd in the stands. Enormous holo-screens projected his face throughout the arena as his voice boomed through the microphone, broadcast to the entire Galra empire.

“I have come as you requested, youth. To respect the ancient rites of our heritage. The Kae’ah Lei. Let all who witness this know that your death will be honorable and clean.” He bowed, flourishing and graceful, every word and action a recital of practiced galra values.

“This ceremony has is roots in the deepest, most sacred history of the Galra people and must not be ignored.” Lotor’s performance was impeccable. His cape swept gracefully behind him as he saluted the crowd, striding effortlessly towards the centre of the ring.

“Let it be known that I, your immortal leader, have been summoned to Kae’ah Lei! And it is my honour and duty to defend that summons. You who have challenged my father for rule of the glorious empire will face me in his stead.”

The cameras then panned to Keith. He saw his face projected on six different billboard-sized screens at once. This was real now. It was happening. Every act of showmanship Lotor put forth was an effort to distract him. To catch Keith off guard. No more. Keith grit his teeth and nodded. He stood, tall and proud, a living legacy of a bloodline more ancient than any Galra present. The crowd hushed.

Lotor’s sword flashed in the high noon sunlight.

 

“Then let us begin.”


	16. Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines day, I guess? (still working on formatting the last chapter)
> 
> You know, I suddenly realise I have been writing the most dramatic and violent Princess Diaries AU ever concieved and I can't help but be very proud of that fact.

Keith turned to face Kolivan fully, away from the swirling chaos of stars outside. A wash of starlight seeping in from the wide window behind him bathed them both in reddish-orange hues, accentuating the deep-set wrinkles in Kolivan’s face. He looked older in this light, Keith thought. Tired. 

And yet- strangely, subtly familiar. Like someone from a half-buried childhood memory, or a dream. Perhaps Keith had simply spent too much time training with him recently; spent too many hours staring up at him from the flat of his back on a mat. Then again, perhaps...

He couldn’t help but eye that stern statue perched on the table as, Keith spoke the question that had been on his mind all afternoon. 

“You said you knew my mother very well.”

His mentor nodded.

“Are we related, Kolivan?”

Kolivan took a long time before he spoke. And when he did, his voice was low and and his words methodically chosen.

“I am... a relative, of sorts. That is all you need to know for now.”

Blood. Living blood, sitting right in front of him. His mouth went slack and tears welled in his eyes and Keith fought to blink them back. Not in front of him. His mind spun with wild possibilities as Kolivan sat silently before him, gauging Keith’s own embarrassing reaction. Kolivan’s eyes briefly flit to the statue and then back again to Keith, the subtle narrowing of his gaze showing his typical disapproval for softness and emotional outburst.

Keith waited for more, but Kolivan’s stern gaze made it evidently clear that more was not coming. An odd stalemate to end their afternoon. Keith had learned so much, and there was still even more being kept from him.

“I wish you’d told me earlier,” he said, steadying the twinge of longing in his voice. “I’ve been here for months.”

“I was waiting for the opportune time.”

“And this is it?”

“No, but it’s all we’ve got.” Kolivan began to gather the cups and pot and place them on the tray. “You’re here to train, Keith, not for a family reunion. Go and rest. We must plan our next moves accordingly.”


	17. Seventeen

Now or never. The cameras centred on him; the crowd roared. Keith drew his dagger and it transformed in his hand, like the sword itself anticipated the fight. Drums pounded as autumn sunlight drenched the stadium and a cool breeze wafted gently down from the upper cliffs, grazing the hairs on his cheek.

Focus.

Keith’s heart rate jumped and his vision narrowed to Lotor in front of him, anticipating his attack. He refused to be distracted. This was his expertise. This was Keith’s bread and meat.

Except Lotor didn’t attack.

He stood, feet planted firmly on the same spot. Smiling. Waiting. Daring Keith to make the first move. The cameras hung upon his face. Keith took a deep breath, and obliged.

He was barely off the round elevator disc before Lotor charged at him through the loose white sand, little more than a blur as he ran headfirst towards Keith. Lotor came up fast. Time slowed as Keith’s mind connected to his body. His muscles tensed, preparing for the assault. And then Lotor was gone.

A shadow? Behind him. Keith didn’t have time to look. He twisted around, guessing a wild parry. Metal hit metal. A lucky block, but not without it drawbacks. He was trapped under Lotor’s weight, awkwardly positioned, and barely able to hold him off. Lotor leaned in as his blade ground against Keith’s own, and whispered in his ear.

“You won’t win, youth. A shame.”

The stadium had become eerily silent. The drums stopped. The crowd no longer cheered as they all focused on the two figures wrestling in the sand. Keith felt a rush of deadly panic. Was he going to lose this soon?

 

* * *

 

Keith heard the footsteps echoing through the enormous hangar. Soft, slow, coming up behind him and in no rush at all. He didn’t bother to turn around. He knew who it was, and the warm hand upon his shoulder confirmed it. They stood there, in silence, staring up at the imposing figure of the Black Lion together.

“There’s no going back after this, huh?” said Shiro.

“Nope.”

His voice was warm and affectionate. “Glad we could spend some more time after you being away for so long. We missed you.”

Keith shook his head, pulling away from that gentle, steady hand. “I shouldn’t even be here right now. I need to get back to the Blade for more training.”

“Keith,” Shiro paused, turning his body, forcing Keith to look him in the eye, “this could be the last time I see you.”

 

* * *

 

Lotor’s weight was on him. Forcing him down. One knee. And then another. Lotor’s silhouette blocked out the sun, and his mother’s sword was the only thing between Keith and a quick and embarrassing death. A low hum emerged from the crowd. In the silence between heavy breaths, Keith’s ears could pick out individual voices. They were singing. Chanting. Some sort of old Galra anthem or rite.

It was then that the immensity of the crowd hit him. These were just the people who happened to be present, those thousands lining the rows above him, and billions more watching. He was going to rule them one day. All of them. Soon.

 

* * *

 

“You always said you never wanted to lead Voltron.” Shiro’s arms were folded in that paternalistic way. The one Keith used to find so solid and reassuring. “You know this is going to be so much bigger than leading four other people.” A way that Keith now felt at odds with.

“I know. Being in the Black Lion changed that. Changed me. So many innocent lives have died, Shiro. I don’t want anyone else to. Leading the Galra gives me a chance to make things right.”

Shiro did not look convinced.

“What if Kolivan is just using you?”

“He’s not! He’s family, Shiro!”

That was when Shiro went cold. His eyes narrowed and that pleading look left his expression. He flexed the fingers of his bionic arm. “The Galra are liars, Keith. They torture and kill for their own purposes. I know what that arena is like. You’ll be fighting to the death. If you’re not careful, you’ll lose a part of yourself in there.”

He didn’t understand. He couldn’t.

“We’re brothers Shiro, but not by blood. I know who I am now.”

 

* * *

 

He wasn’t going to win a contest of strength. Fortunately, Keith had other talents. A fierce punch to Lotor’s knee threw him off balance, and Keith was rolling away, safely out of reach.

He scrambled to his feet just as Lotor was on him again, slashing with a speed and fury Kolivan had warned Keith about in his training sessions. Blow after blow, Keith was blocking and dodging with everything he had. Sparks flew when the two blades met. Still, the chanting song continued, many-voiced and haunting. It sounded vaguely familiar in Keith’s ears. Like a half-buried memory. Familiar. Something from when he was very young.

 

  
[Art by Icarus](http://becoming-icarus.tumblr.com/)

 

That drop in concentration cost him.

Lotor’s sword cut deep into Keith’s shoulder, slicing easily through the flexible battlesuit material and into the flesh below. Lotor grinned, wide and sharp-toothed. He allowed Keith the luxury of realizing what had happened as a trail of red fell from the wound and splashed onto the dry sand below.

Lotor claimed first blood. The stadium roared.

 

* * *

 

“What is this?” Pidge glanced up from her laptop as a small piece of paper floated into her vision from Keith’s hand. He waggled it teasingly in front of her.

“Five whole Galra Approved Currency,” he said, grinning.

“What for?” She grabbed it, smoothing the bill between her fingers.

His smile faded. “I found out my mom is dead.”

Pidge’s face dropped, and Keith felt a wash of embarrassment, immediately regretting what he’d done.

“Oh, Jesus, Keith, we were _kidding._ Don’t-” she scrunched up her tired eyes, rubbing them under her glasses, “don’t give me money for this.”

“Nah,” he shrugged, waving away her attempts to force the money back into his hands. “I think it’s kinda funny.”

He sat down beside her on the common room couch, and Pidge’s mouth opened and closed a couple times before she settled on comforting silence, and they sat together, minding their own business. Silence was ok. Keith liked silence when it was with Pidge.

The room was filled with the quiet noise of typing as Keith watched her work, and he sat there, thinking about the future. Finally, she spoke.

“Are you sad?”

Keith leaned back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling as he considered the question. It took just as long before he felt like he had enough words to reply. “I don’t think I really can be anymore. Y’know? I dealt with it when I was little. Shiro helped. I was mad when Kolivan told me. I broke some stuff. And then… I just- got used to it.”

“You gonna be ok?”

“I’m used to it, Pidge. Don’t worry about me.”

 

* * *

 

The pain was intoxicating. It made him feel more alive than ever. Keith dug in his heels and launched into another round of offense, taking Lotor by surprise with his sudden second wind. Lotor dodged, but Keith managed to graze his cheek. His galra senses felt the rush of excitement. He had to be careful, Keith thought. Otherwise he might start enjoying this.

 

* * *

 

“Come in.”

The door hissed open. It was Lance, doing that thing he did, where he tried so hard to be casual while working his way up to something he really needed to talk about. His fingers traced the doorframe absently, and his smile was fake, but cheerful.

“Hey, man. Can we talk?”

There it was.

“Yeah?”

Lance stepped into Keith’s old bedroom, empty now from the few possessions Keith carried with him from Earth. It had gone back to being some cold Altean construct, devoid of any connection to him. The bed was the same, however. Warm, but not too soft. The blanket was thick and heavy and used to weigh his restless body down when he slept here. Of all the places he’d slept, Keith always liked this bed the best. Lance sat down beside him.

“Can you really do this, Keith? Just _become_ an emperor?”

Keith forced a laugh. “You jealous?”

“No! ...A little? Maybe.” Lance played with his fingers the way he always did when he was anxious.

“This is my chance to restore order, Lance. I have to take it. I can end the war, end the Galra expansion. I’ll just become their leader and then I’ll- I’ll tell them not to!”

“Who’s to say you won’t become like Zarkon or Lotor?”

“I’m not like them! Lance, it’s our only shot. I have to _try._ ”

“Just, when you’re this big, powerful emperor…”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t-” He paused for the briefest moment, “forget about me.”

“I won’t.”

 

* * *

 

Lotor seemed to detect Keith’s relentless fury. “You are a worthy opponent, Keith,” he said, driving his own blade with equal measure. And still, Keith hungered for more. He was putting Lotor on the defensive.

“Your mother’s death was deeply regrettable.”

Keith froze. And that fraction of a second was all it took.

Keith could barely raise his sword in time to meet Lotor’s powerful two-handed swing. It knocked him to the sand again and Lotor towered over him, drinking in the crowd’s reaction.

 

* * *

 

“What are you making?” Keith asked, following his nose into the kitchen, where Hunk stood over several pots and pans, flipping and stirring.

“Sort of a sloppy joe-beef po boy kinda thing. My own creation. You hungry?” Hunk made to reach for a soft golden bun on the counter.

“Nah. I’m just here to watch and smell.” He took a seat on the tall bar stood near the central island, leaning on the counter as the smell of seasoned simmering meats filled the air.

“You do you, man.” Hunk grabbed a single bun and started slicing it. “There was one thing I kinda wanted to ask you, but I didn’t want to distract from your big fight.”

He watched Hunk delicately place lettuce and onions on his sandwich. “No, it’s fine.”

“Keith,” Hunk began, before a long pause. And Keith couldn’t tell if Hunk was dead-set on concentrating on the hot sauces he was pouring or if, like everyone else, he just couldn’t quite figure out what to say. “Look, I don’t know anything about Galra life or culture or Galra history or whatever. All I know is what you’ve told me...”

“Yeah?”

“And, like, maybe you know the answer. Or Kolivan knows. But-”

Hunk placed the ladle he was holding back in the pot. His finished creation was artfully made, dripping with red sauces and garnished with a sprig of some alien herb.

“I was thinking, when I was thinking about your family. Your mom. Kolivan said- _you_ said, that she ran away and hid when she was young. She left.”

“Uh-huh?” Keith tried desperately to downplay his curiosity, eyeing Hunk’s creation and pretending he was hungrier than he was.

“I just... sometimes I wonder why.”

 

* * *

 

“Do you not see why I am leading the Galra into a new age?” Lotor’s voice rang throughout the stadium. “We need not slaughter our own blood!”

He’d done it again. Distracted him. Used Keith’s weaknesses against him. It made him furious. “Liar!” he screamed, raw and unrestrained.

It was a stupid choice, flinging his sword. Keith didn’t think. He just did it. As Lotor played the crowd, carelessly turning away, Keith heaved his blade with all his strength. It buried itself in Lotor’s back before falling to the sand.

Lotor turned back on his with death and fury in his eyes. The cameras cut away. Keith was unarmed and helpless. Stupid.

“As I said,” Lotor gasped, “her death was a tragedy. As yours will be.”

Keith heard the click of the trap arming itself before he saw the barb glint in the golden-orange daylight. The giant screens turned to fuzz. Too late to move out of the way.

The barb shot out of the sand and hit Keith under his left rib. He screamed. It burned like fiery hell.

It was a clever trap, invisible to the thousands of onlookers. Lotor had made it look like a clever move with his sword as he dove at Keith. The cameras were back on, and the giant screens centred on the gush of blood leaking from Keith’s abdomen.

 

* * *

 

“Good luck, Keith.”

He’d been kissed by Allura before, but this tiny, formal peck held a kind of urgency he hadn’t noticed before. She stood back, and the his skin of his cheek prickled with the memory of it.

“You don’t seem as worried as the rest.” And she didn’t. She wasn’t avoiding his gaze like Lance or Shiro, or pitying him like Hunk or Pidge. She just stood there, tall and proud, her white hair swept back behind her diadem. She looked… more royal than he ever did.

“This alliance could shift everything in the war, Keith. I know its true importance. You and I… we are equals, now. And together, we will bring peace where Zarkon and Lotor only brought war.”

“I’m glad someone finally sees things my way.”

She stepped back, facing the controls of the bridge on the Castle of Lions. Outside, countless stars twinkled around them through the wide windows. “All those civilizations out there…” She sighed, “When you win, we will pass laws rooting out evil and corruption! We can rebuild the Altea that has been destroyed!” her voice finally rose to a crescendo of passion; fire lit her eyes and Allura looked more determined than Keith had ever seen her.

“All because we are united, Keith.” She turned to face him once more. “And you will remain loyal to Voltron, will you not?”

“Of course.”

He shuffled his feet, dumbstruck by her presence. “And you’ll help me figure out... You know, laws and things? Fairness. I know I’m a fighter, Allura. I’m not a diplomat.”

Her smile deepend as Allura came forward and brought Keith once more into her arms, surprising him with the warmth of her embrace. “Of course.”

“You seem confident,” he said, pulling back at last.

“I am… hopeful.”

 

* * *

 

Keith lay there in the sand, in breathless agony as Lotor hefted his sword once again. Too far away. He’d thrown his sword and it was too far away.

Keith attacked with a desperate fury. The bloodsong pounded in his ears and his breath and heart was the rhythm to this deadly music. The time for honorable fighting was done as two painfully wounded combatants clashed in a fight to the absolute end.

Somehow, barreling into Lotor took him enough by surprise that Keith knocked the wind out of him. Lotor went down, into the sand. His sword lay just inches out of reach. Blood from his back soaked through his cloak as Lotor fought of Keith’s wild, furious blows. Keith landed a square punch to his jaw. Then he broke his nose.

Desperately, Lotor coughed and spat as keith pinned him under his weight. He grabbed Keith’s fists and choked, “I will reforge the empire into something greater! We, of half-blood, we can both reclaim glory! Join me, _brother!_ ”

Cheater. Liar. Symbol of the Galra. Keith didn’t know what he was doing, he only knew that he hated Lotor and everything he stood for.

Keith stood from Lotor’s nearly unconscious form and reached for his discarded sword. Slowly, carefully, he pointed the tip of the blade at Lotor’s throat.

“I already have a brother.”

As blood trailed from Lotor’s nose and tears ran from his eyes, and the skin of his neck gasped into the edge of Keith’s blade, he paused, and his vision swam back to Kolivan, sitting across from him in front of the vast, swirling nebula of stars.

 

* * *

 

“And if I do defeat Lotor,” said Keith, “Should I spare his life, or kill him?”

“That depends.” Kolivan’s final words echoed in Keith’s mind.

 

“What kind of emperor do you wish to be?”

 

_The End_

 

  
[Art by Icey](http://staring-into-demon-eyes.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the artists I worked with for the Galra Keith zine! Please go check out their incredible talent! 
> 
> And thank you for reading Empire!
> 
> I wanted to write a story that revolved around the politics and power-play of the voltron universe, so I have some questions for you.
> 
> 1) Do you think keith is right to be taking on the Galra empire? Do you think he would make a good leader?  
> 2) Is Keith making his own decisions or is he being manipulated? By Kolivan? By anyone else?  
> 3) What role did Orenia, Keith’s mother have to play before Keith was born? Could this be a sign that something isn’t right in Kolivan’s plan?
> 
> I’d be interested to know your thoughts on how this story affected you, and where you think it might go.


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